


did you let your sorrow erase you

by rainekind



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Diary/Journal, Eventual Smut (described in entries), F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3727684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainekind/pseuds/rainekind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>was it your lack of freedom?<br/>was it the fact that people are idiots who find gold mines<br/>in beautiful people like you and still don't know how to treat them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> the song for the title is 'smile' by angel haze.
> 
> i'm a nut for solavellan, and i've been feeling journal entries lately. please note that in my headcanon, lavellan is incredibly emotionally repressed not just post-solas, but throughout – though, especially post-solas. so, this would be the only medium through which she may express herself. this chapter is short, but it's a precedent for what's to come. e

       Maker knows where the Inquisitor is.

       Gone, obviously – gone since two mornings ago. But even Leliana's scouts and the Iron Bull's informants could not tell where she went. At first, the spymaster believed them, but it became apparent eventually that many of Bull's and her own people had been bribed. No honesty from them, and no sense in losing them for one piece of information, as he's convinced her... for an hour, with no end until she agreed. Thus, no progress made. 

       And so, as a last resort ( which, he isn't gonna lie, is a little insulting ) they've turned to Varric.

       Only, his people couldn't tell him anything either, so he's resorted to doing some investigation. She can't have been that careful. He has a keen eye, granted, but more than that, he _knows_ her. Knows where she would put what she was hiding, if she was hiding anything... which, likely, she was.  _Something_ has to clue him in on where she went. Why she went where she went. 

       Her quarters, first. The desk. Organized, which is new. The Inquisitor isn't known for her tidiness, as Varric himself has joked about with her on some occasions. Everything is in order: the bed made, the rug dragged to a new spot (weird. look at that later ), and the  _desk, organized._ Somehow, he has a feeling that whatever he has to find, he won't find in there. With Bianca at his back as always, Varric steps forward into the room, looking around for any clue of Inquisitor Lavellan's reckless abandon.

 _Creak._  Something moves under his shoe.

       A loose floorboard, huh? Crafty, Inquisitor, but there's no fooling this dwarf. He stoops upon a knee to pry it with some effort from the ground, a smirk pulling at his lips at the sight of a leather-bound titleless book shoved clumsily into the space below.

       Alright, Bianca. Story time.


	2. ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NOW we're getting into it.

The book's first page is a quill-tester. Ink blots and scribbles pattern it, and it looks like there are words crossed out. The second is where the actual entry lies; though he knows this is a serious matter of the Inquisitor going missing, the thrill of uncovering a story bubbles into his fingertips.

_Dirthamen,_

_I am naming this journal for you not because my vallaslin is dedicated to you, but because you are Dirthamen, Keeper of Secrets, the only god I would trust with such a work. You are all around me, manifesting yourself in the hushed whispers that the trees bring; in Leliana's hands, deft and precise as she works the strings of Thedas with but a single word; in the messages eyes carry, so heavy behind lashes and demure lids. You're in knowledge hanging like a weight over one's tongue, longing to be shared but shut behind closed lips. You make yourself known in the feet of Tevinter's slaves, silently creeping along the floors as nobles slept, sharing knowledge never known to those too daft to realize they err. I can see you, Dirthamen, as you can see me._

_How is it, being locked away where you cannot show your influence? I suppose that was the fault of the Dread Wolf. It is said he lurks, unseen, in the Fade, his many eyes watching you to make sure you neglect to escape your prisons. Watching us, as well. Perhaps he'll take me; at least I would feel again, be it pain, be it fear. I haven't been scared in so long, Dirthamen, yet at the same time it never leaves me._

_Well, he didn't stop Mythal. Do you have a vessel? It seems that with you, we would never know._

_Ma serannas, for your time._

_Inquisitor Lavellan_

Alright. The Elvish so far contained in the entry is stuff he understands. Just the thank you thing. She's said that to him before, on a night where she was too drunk to see straight and her giggles poured out like a dammed river as he guided her out of the tavern toward her quarters so that no one would get ideas. It was, in all honesty, the first time he'd seen her smile.


	3. iii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> no varric this time, nor for a while until Lavellan says something provoking enough for him to react.

_Dirthamen,_

_He haunts my dreams. I don't know if it's demons taking his shape or simply the Fade's manifestation of him, but I hear us laughing._

_We were in the Exalted Plains, once. It was rather hot for such an environment, and I hadn't brought enough water, so he gave me his on the condition that he could kiss the moisture from my lips afterwards. He was my oasis. He, this man whose lip used to curl at the sight of the marks upon my face ( still here, despite his revelation. When I look at them, they feel like dirt that will never come off. An itching reminder of what could have been. )_

_The fade shows me this, too; it shows me mirrors. I want to scratch off my skin._

_But every time, I see Fen'Harel's eyes staring at me in the reflection, stopping me in my tracks. What does he want from me?_

_Dirthamen, please keep your brother away from me. Something hurts when I look into those scarlet eyes; not hurts physically, it doesn't scare me, but it hurts. Why is he so sad? I, at least, have a reason. Ma vhenan left me, and for what? For what? What did I do wrong?  
_

_Have you ever realized that you must have done something wrong for it to turn out this way? I cannot decide whether my error was saying something wrong to him, refusing to allow him to remove my vallaslin, or loving him in the first place. Would he have left anyway? You would know the answers if not for your imprisonment, Keeper of Secrets, as you're most likely omniscient._

_You are lucky. I would kill for that. Perhaps, then, I would know why._

_Ma serannas,_

_Inquisitor Lavellan_


	4. iv.

_ Dirthamen, _ 

 _ Today went well, other than the constant weight that presses down on my chest. Since he left, it hasn’t gone away. Blackwall – Rainier? It doesn’t matter – and I talked in the stables of **him**. I should have begun to talk to Blackwall sooner, for he understands how this feels. I didn’t need to describe it, and he didn’t need to say anything. We shared a look. It was enough. _  

_ Dorian is worried about me. I need to figure out a way to make him stop; make him think I’m alright. As much as I hate to say it, the tavern might be a necessary destination. I’ll simply have to find the Orlesian in me and wear my best mask._

_ Fen’Harel keeps watching my dreams. Block your brother out, if you will. He’s becoming rather irritating. Is it because I’ve never thought of him as evil, so now he wants to sidle up to me? I’ve more important things on my mind._

_ I’ve also realized that I’ve been behind on my work because of everything that happened. So much has fallen on my advisors’ shoulders, but no more. I cannot excuse myself from it. I have a duty, and so long as it stands, I don’t matter. _

 

_ I don’t matter. _

 

_ I dont matter. _

 

_ I am the Inquisitor. I don’t need to be a person._

 

_        Ma serannas,_

_        Inquisitor Lavellan _

 

 


End file.
